The harvests began after the family found tools in a barn on the Historic Dreibelbis Farm.

Written by Marylouise Sholly

Standing in the middle of an ice-covered pond, Brian Dreibelbis hoists a 6-foot-long wooden-handled chisel and slams it into the ice, making several attempts before a crack forms in the frozen pond. Trying not to slip, Dreibelbis grabs a saw and begins the tedious work of cutting out a large square of ice, as water sloshes over his boots.

Groundhog Day 2019 marked the sixth year for an ice-harvesting demonstration at the nonprofit Historic Dreibelbis Farm near Virginville. About 100 spectators attended, braving the bright but very cold day, and eventually applauding Brian for his efforts.

Owned by the Dreibelbis family for more than 240 years, the farm is preserved and maintained by the Dreibelbis Farm Historical Society Inc. Its mission includes making the farm available to the public for educational purposes.

“It's fascinating to see where we started,” said Carol Peters of Fleetwood before the demonstration began.

Glimpse of the past

“This is cool, and it gives them a perspective on things of the past that you don't find anymore,” Jason Peters said.

A small bonfire helped ease the sting of the frosty air, as visitors milled around Mark Dreibelbis, president of the society, and Brian's dad, to learn the history of ice harvesting. Hot soup and hot cocoa were also available.

Ice-harvesting demonstrations began after the Dreibelbis family found pikes, chisels, a scorer to make grids on the ice, and a breaker bar, used to cut ice blocks, in a barn on the property.

“When we found these tools, we researched ice harvesting and we basically taught ourselves how to do it,” Dreibelbis said. “We thought this would be something unique to present to the public.”

Dreibelbis said he knows of only one other place in Pennsylvania where an ice-harvesting demonstration is done: a farm in the Poconos.

After watching a documentary about old-time ice harvesting, Danielle Smyre of Dalmatia had a good idea of what she would see at the farm.

But on a bitter cold February day, after watching the activity with scores of other shivering people, Smyre was even more impressed.

“It's extremely hard work and you'd have to be in very good shape to be able to do this,” Smyre said. “It commands a lot of respect for the people who had to do this to provide for their families.”

The fact that ice harvesting entailed a combination of hard work and risk wasn't lost on any of the spectators.

Danger and dollars

“We thought this would be fun to watch, but it's a little scary,” said Michelle Endy of Wyomissing, who came with her husband to watch the demonstration. “That's what I was thinking as I watched them sawing though the ice. It was really difficult.

“It takes a lot of strength to even use those tools; it's not work for sissies,” Endy said.

Probably the only crop to be harvested in midwinter, for centuries ice was also one of the farmer's most profitable commodities.

“Many times, the money from that ice was equal to what the farm was worth,” said Dreibelbis. “They'd sell the ice and make a nice profit … and it was a primary function of the farm.”

But that cold cash didn't come easy.

“This was known as the hardest work on the farm,” Dreibelbis said. “It was a short season — January and February — but it was intense.”

Farming has always been labor-intensive, but ice harvesting, Dreibelbis said, was the toughest and some of the most dangerous work a farmer could do.

“You were out in the bitter cold for hours, 'round the clock many times and you could fall through the ice or the horses could fall through the ice,” Dreibelbis said.

Apparently, man and beast falling through the ice was a fairly common occurrence, necessitating the need for extra men with ropes standing by as the work proceeded.

Horses had to be specially shod to give them enough traction to walk on the ice and prevent slipping.

First cut

Farmers used either an ax or a man-sized chisel to break through, hitting the rock-hard ice several times until finally making a crack in the pond.

“Cutting the ice was just the beginning … you used pikes to move it out of the river, load the blocks on a wagon, take it to an icehouse and stack the blocks,” Dreibelbis said.

During the night, men kept watch to make sure the channel they hollowed out from the pond to the bank didn't freeze over, cutting off their egress.

In the icehouse, layers of sawdust were placed between the blocks so they wouldn't fuse together.

“The sawdust would also insulate it and keep it cool,” Dreibelbis said.

Ice stored this way could last into early fall.

The original icehouse at the farm is being rehabilitated, he said.

Keeping many of those solid blocks of ice for the farmer's own use was of utmost importance, as they were used to cool milk.

“You could not expand your dairy herd until you had enough ice,” Dreibelbis said. “Milk comes out of a cow at 99 degrees, so this is what they had to have. There were other forms of preserving food at the time, like smoking or canning, but to keep milk from spoiling, you needed ice.”

Gwen Snyder of Hatfield brought her dad, Erwin Hains, to watch the proceedings.

“It's not old man's work, that's for sure; it's a young lad's job to do this,” Snyder said. “Now we just take it for granted; we go to the fridge and get ice. This is a very unique experience.”

Antique tools

Hains was impressed with the use of the original ice-cutting tools from the 1800s, he said.

“We really have no idea what life was like in those days,” Hains said.

Snyder said she loved the history, but wanted to know how men would get big blocks of ice up a tree-covered bank to where a horse-drawn wagon would be waiting.

“The scorer itself is an interesting contraption,” Hains said, referring to a wooden sled-type piece that scored the ice to make uniform blocks. “And the ice looks like it's hard to get hold of with the tongs … it looks like a slippery bar of soap.”

Snyder said she learned of the ice-cutting demonstration when she came for the farm's summer festival.

“It was 100 degrees that day,” Snyder said wistfully.

Unique slice of history

Elizabeth Magovern and husband Chris Hartman of Oley brought their son, Isaac, to see the demonstration.

“We're into the history of Berks County, and this is an im­portant part of it,” Magovern said.

When it came time for ice-cutting, most of a farm's workers participated, Dreibelbis said, including the men who would shovel snow off the ice, the first step in the process.

Dennis Gable and Beverly Nuzzo came from Pottstown.

“It's so cold, but this was worth it,” Nuzzo said.

“It's amazing that it was all manual work,” Gable said.

Victim of progress

It all changed when refrigeration came on the scene by 1920, Dreibelbis said.

“That brought ice harvesting to a screeching halt,” he said.

However, even after the nation's Rural Electrification Act passed in the early years of the 20th century, many rural areas remained without electricity until the late 1930s, Dreibelbis said, so those areas continued to rely on ice cut from local rivers and streams.

“Refrigeration is way more reliable,” Dreibelbis said. “This was so very labor-intensive that nobody does it anymore.”

For more information, visit the Facebook page “Historic Dreibelbis Farm” or dreibelbisfarm.org.